Naive Sherlock
by tryingtowritefanfiction
Summary: Sherlock likes to study the sexual habits of John and overhears something bad. Dark!John. Dub/Non con. Abusive relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat outside John's door with a notebook and a pen documenting everything he observed.

He had been doing this for months now without John noticing him yet. John would bring home a girl, usually a different one every night, and fuck her. He thought back to the first time.

Sherlock woke up one night to loud grunts and moaning. He went up the stairs to John's room to investigate and as he drew closer he could hear the bed being slammed into the wall. He was fascinated and a little frightened by the idea of sex and began to listen outside the door.

He'd been doing it ever since, but, being a scientific man, he began to jot down notes and even record what he heard sometimes. Sherlock would analyze it later while John was asleep or at work. It was all for science of course. He had no interest in John, sexually at least.

Suddenly jerked from his memories he realized the bed had stopped rocking and John and the woman he was with were talking in hushed tones. Sherlock pressed himself closer to the door in hopes of observing this strange interruption in John's usual ritual.

"I want to try something new." John breathed

"No." the woman said forcefully

_"_Heather. Please,"

"For god's sake John, leave it. It's filthy."

"It's not filthy, and I'm a doctor, I know how everything works and how gentle I'll have to be, I won't hurt you, please, you'll enjoy it I promise," John went on trying to convince the woman and the woman, Heather, went on protesting for quite some time.

"Fine!"

"Keep your voice down!" John hissed

"Fine, we can try, but if I say stop, we stop. Lube?"

Sherlock heard some rustling as John got up and shuffled to the dresser. Sherlock was a bit surprised really. Usually John asked for anal when they first fell into bed, not after he'd been at it for a while. Perhaps he was trying a new tactic to try and achieve better results. The women had never complied with his requests before, so this new technique must have worked.

He heard the creek of the bed springs as John climbed back on.

Small sighs and grunts of discomfort could be heard from Heather as John prepared her.

Finally Sherlock heard her say she was ready. He was very interested to find out how this would go, he'd never observed John having anal sex before and, to be honest, he was actually excited.

"Ouch John! Gentle!"

"Sorry, sorry. Shhh, Sherlock's sleeping"

"Always about Sherlock isn't it?"

Sherlock heard an unusually rough thrust push the bed into the wall.

"John!"

John panted for a bit before answering "Sorry love, please try to keep quiet though, I'm sorry to mention Sherlock again but I don't want him to hear this._"_

Sherlock snorted a small laugh, if only John knew.

"Alright, go on." Heather said through what sounded like clenched teeth.

The steady motion began again slowly but quickly became rougher.

John was breathing heavily and loudly through his nose and Heather was whimpering.

"John, please, slow down!"

He grunted a response but as far as Sherlock could tell he didn't let up any, in fact he just seemed to be at it harder now.

"You're hurting me! Stop!" she nearly screamed, voice choked with tears.

Sherlock debated going in to stop all this. But perhaps this was all part of the sex he was so unfamiliar with? Maybe it was all pre-planned and he would burst in and they would shout at him to leave and he would feel foolish.

No. He would wait a little longer before interfering.

"Stop! Stop!" Heather sobbed

John thrust once more and cried out Sherlock's name as he came.

Sherlock stood stunned. This was highly unusual. He silently snuck back to his room to analyze these strange new findings.

John released Heather's bruised hips and pulled out falling down onto the mattress.

"How dare you, you bastard!" she shouted through tears as she gathered her clothes as quickly as she could and fled the flat.

John barely registered the ruckus she made as she shouted abuse at him and stormed out. He had never meant to shout Sherlock's name. All these women were just a substitute for what he couldn't have, but now that he'd said it allowed, it all felt strange. He wanted more. He wanted Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock gathered all the facts. The most important of which was John calling out his name during his orgasm. John's lingering gazes and to-long touches also confirmed his theory. John Watson was in love with him.

Sherlock was flattered really. In fact, Sherlock was charmed and maybe even loved John back. John was always there for him and always put up with him like no one else had. Perhaps this was love? Though, he felt no sexual desire to be with John, he wanted to make him happy, to kiss him and to hold him.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes was in love.

Surly, John would ask him for sexual favors once they became a couple and Sherlock could easily say no and suggest a prostitute, he wouldn't mind. He'd know John was thinking of him.

Now how to bring it up to John?

Sherlock got up early and tried to make tea. He also attempted to make toast, simple tasks that he couldn't quite get right. But John would be pleased at the effort none the less. He set the table and waited. It was another 27 minutes before John came down stairs, not like he was counting.

John smelled food immediately and knew something was odd.

"You made breakfast?" John asked surprised

"Yes, do you like it?" was the hopeful response

"Well let's see." John sat down to his plate of burnt toast and cup of tea that had obviously not been brewing long enough.

"Looks great. What did you do?"

"What did I do?"

"Yeah, what's all this? What are you apologizing for?"

Sherlock looked a bit hurt. "No, I did it because I want you to be happy."

John raised an eyebrow in question. Despite what Sherlock might think, he wasn't that stupid. "Sherlock must have heard me calling his name last night and thinks I want to be with him, damn fool probably wants romance. I don't want to be with him like that, I only want to fuck his brains out. Can't let this get out of hand." John thought.

"Listen Sherlock, I know what you heard, but, I don't think-"

"John I really care for you, a lot. I want to please you; I can be a better friend and whatever else you want me to be if you let me try." Sherlock interrupted pleading.

John thought about this. Perhaps this could work to both their advantages.

"I'm not gay." John stated

Sherlock looked down at his toast, "I know John, it's just, I did hear you calling for me and it surprised me and know I'm not an expert at sex, but you and that woman were having such a good time and you were thinking of me when you climaxed and I have strong feelings for you and I just want you to be happy and I want to be the one that makes you happy and I want to hold you and be with you please give me a chance John I-"

Well one of them was having a good time during the sex, John thought fondly.

"Sherlock, no one can know. If we do decide to become a couple that is."

Sherlock came back from his near teary almost breakdown. "We can be a couple?" he whispered hopefully but not completely believing it. This was all going so well, moving so quickly.

John contained his smirk. He would have Sherlock every way twice by Sunday the way this was going. "Well," John fake mused, "I suppose we could give it a go..."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he dashed around the table to embrace John.

Sherlock laughed and John took this chance to laugh to. This was all going so well.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was elated. He loved John. John loved him. Everything was just right.

John pulled Sherlock back and looked at him. "Sherlock, what are you willing to do with me right now?"

Sherlock blushed and looked at his feet, "Sexually, you mean."

John smiled, "Yes."

"I-I'm a virgin John and I don't really want to have penetrative sex quite yet. The idea frightens me, silly isn't it?"

John faked concern, "Love, we don't have to do that yet. I want you to be comfortable with this."

Sherlock grinned and visibly relaxed. Being called 'love' by John felt amazing "Can we kiss now?" he asked feeling a bit bolder.

"Anything you want."

John took Sherlock's hand and they sat down on the sofa facing each other, Sherlock fidgeted feeling nervous again.

"Just relax," John whispered and cupped Sherlock's jaw to bring him closer. When their lips met it felt like heaven to Sherlock. The few unpleasant kissed he'd had before couldn't compare.

Sherlock was very hesitant and followed John's lead. When John licked his lower lip he gasped, John took advantage and slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. John was in complete control of the kiss.

John ran his hand down Sherlock's back gently, soothingly, stopping at his lower back. Mustn't scare him away, jumpy fucking virgin, John thought. Sherlock moaned into their kiss and pushed himself closer to John.

After John was sufficiently hard and aching he pulled away. Sherlock panted and looked more confused at the loss of contact than anything. John smiled and looked down at the bulge in his trousers. "I'll go take care of this," It was a risky move, but he was sure Sherlock would want to please him.

"No wait!" Sherlock grabbed John's wrist. "I could... I mean if you'd let me I'm sure I'd be no good, but… if you want me to I would also want to… that is-"

This was going much better than John had planned. He placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek and the virgin leaned into the contact. "Do you want to suck me off?" He asked as gently as he could muster.

Sherlock blushed profusely and looked away but nodded.

"Here, kneel down in front of me, between my legs," Sherlock got up and complied "Yes, just like that."

Sherlock had a look of concentration on his face as he stared at John's still covered erection. "I have no idea what I'm doing." Sherlock admitted.

John felt like he knew exactly where this was going to lead. "I'll teach you. Just unzip me and pull my pants and trousers down."

Sherlock did so, slowly and with care. John lifted his hips to help and the clothes that were once so restricting now pooled around his ankles. Sherlock inhaled sharply through his nose.

John was pleased, it's not like he was huge, but Sherlock's reaction to seeing him was great for his ego. "Now take me in your hand, yes grip the base like that, just like that, and put your mouth on me,"

Sherlock hesitated, and then licked the tip. John gasped and Sherlock was filled with confidence by this. He did it again swirling his tongue around and stroking gently with the hand he didn't have on the sofa seat for support.

This really wasn't moving fast enough John thought. "Sherlock, you're doing it wrong, you've got to take as much as you can." Sherlock looked up and frowned, but, John was the expert here. He opened his mouth and took in as much as he felt he could, careful of teeth.

John hissed and reached down to Sherlock's hair with both of his hands. Sherlock looked up to observe John's face. Oh god, that view, those lips taking him in slipping up and down on his hard cock. He could write sonnets devoted to those heart shaped lips around his cock.

He groaned and tightened his grip in Sherlock's hair, pulling the slightest bit. Sherlock, further encouraged by John's moans started sucking harder and faster. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, but that was to be expected. Spit ran down Sherlock's chin as he looked up again to check on John.

John was watching him and deciding whether or not Sherlock would be able to deepthroat on his first attempt. He thought it might be time to find out. John started by gently pushing and pulling Sherlock along with his own rhythm, but quickly he began to take more control.

Sherlock could feel a sharp pain every time his head was pulled back by his hair and an uncomfortable feeling, like he was going to vomit, every time he was pushed forward. His eyes started to water and he tried to signal John to stop by pushing on his legs and belly. John groaned and started thrusting his hips pushing his prick roughly down Sherlock's throat. Sherlock was crying freely now and felt like he was going to be choked. He just wanted this to stop. And, finally, with one last thrust, John started to come. He shot down Sherlock's throat and then pulled out to paint his face.

John leaned back on the sofa and panted, "Are you sure that was your first time? You were fantastic!" John seemed to not notice Sherlock choking and crying on the floor between his legs. Sherlock dry heaved once, twice, and then vomited on the rug. John looked down with disappointment.

"John that hurt!" Sherlock cried

"That's how it's supposed to feel," came the reply with a frown

John pulled Sherlock up onto the sofa beside him and wrapped his arms around him. "You did it perfectly." "You really think so?" "Of course, you need a bit of practice, but that was great."

Sherlock felt wonderful for making John proud, he would obviously do better in time, with practice. John got up, pulled his pants up and stretched. "I'm off to have a nap, Sherlock. You should probably clean that up." He said, indicating the vomit.

Of course, Sherlock thought, how could he spit John out after John had let him do this incredibly intimate thing with him. Filled with shame and a promise to himself to do better, he began cleaning.

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okay so author's note! this is my first story and reviews and suggestions for future stories would be really helpful ( i kind of like the whole non-con thing so yeah if you do to, throw me a prompt like that ) thank you for reading! i feel like i'll continue this


	4. Chapter 4

The next night John made his way inside after he arrived home from the office stairs and was greeted by another of Sherlock's meal attempts.

"What's all this?" John asked

"Well, now that were a couple, I thought I should make you dinner more often, to show I care."

"Well maybe you should learn to make dinner. This meat is burnt, these beans aren't done, this tea is cold, and I'm pretty sure you didn't try very hard at all to get the kind of wine I like."

Sherlock did try very hard. He went out early to get all the ingredients he needed and stared at the wine selection for nearly five minutes.

"I suppose your right," Sherlock sniffed, "I only meant to do good."

John tutted, "I know love, you'll do better next time."

Sherlock smiled and embraced the doctor. John leaned back, cupped Sherlock's face and pulled him into a kiss.

Sherlock adored their kisses, so tender and kind, like he had imagined they would be before he actually tried them. In reality, John wanted more.

This kiss was as brilliant as in his dreams, but, as he expected, John felt the need to deepen the kiss. Sherlock was more than happy to keep it at soft brushes of lips and gentle caresses. But John seemed to have other plans. In fact, Sherlock wasn't even sure he liked the idea of sex at all, but, he would try for John. To make John happy.

John nibbled at Sherlock's lower lip until he surrendered, then he invaded Sherlock's mouth with such force that Sherlock was stumbling back into the wall.

John grabbed his hands and held them tight against the wall. Sherlock whimpered. This was all really much too easy, all Sherlock needed was a little affection and John could have his way with him in no time.

He ground his hips up against Sherlock's to show his arousal. Sherlock inhaled quickly, he really didn't want to go there right now. Or ever.

John pulled back and panted, enjoying the blush on Sherlock's face. "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

Sherlock averted his eyes, "I don't think I'm ready John…" couldn't John feel that he just wasn't as aroused by all this?

"Why not? You do want me don't you?" John was feeling particularly manipulative, "Do you want me to leave you? To move out? To be alone? Do you want to be alone?"

Sherlock felt his stomach tighten and his eyes beginning to water. "No of course not John! I'm sorry, you're right, I do want you." He most certainly did not want John, at least not in the way John wanted him.

John smiled and wiped Sherlock's tears away then gently kissed him. Sherlock leaned into the kiss, desperate to make John understand that he needed him to stay, he couldn't be alone again. Not after he'd found John's love.

"Alright, let's go then," John took his hand and lead him to his own bedroom.

When they got there John closed and locked the door. Then turned to Sherlock.

"Strip." John commanded. Sherlock started to unbutton his shirt; damn his hands were trembling so much. John did so much for him without question and here he was failing at this one little thing John asked him to do.

When he had finally gotten his shirt off he looked at John, who in that time had discarded his shirt, shoes, and trousers. Sherlock quickly undid his trousers and pulled them down past his thin hips and skinny legs. Then sat on the bed and unlaced his shoes.

John stalked closer staring intently at Sherlock's body; "The socks to," Sherlock looked down at John's socks "My feet get cold," John explained and kissed his forehead. As soon as Sherlock removed his socks John was on him, pushing him down into the bed, grinding against him and nipping his neck.

Sherlock moaned and John chuckled. Biting down his chest and ribs he stopped at Sherlock's pants "Lift," and Sherlock did, John slid his pants down and tossed them off the side of the bed then did the same with his own, seemingly not even noticing Sherlock wasn't hard in the slightest.

"Flip over on your belly. Yeah like that, good. Now put a pillow under your hips, it'll be more comfortable for both of us that way." The uneasy feeling in Sherlock's stomach grew with the terrible thought that he was really going to have to do this. John fetched some lube and covered his fingers pushing one unceremoniously into Sherlock's hole.

"God, you're tight!" John worked his finger until he grew tired of that and added another one. Seeing Sherlock stretch out around him was glorious.

A third finger was added much to quickly and Sherlock cried out in discomfort, "You like that, yeah? You just can't wait for my cock can you? Slut." John chanted as he thrust his fingers quicker.

Sherlock was hurt by the 'slut' comment. He was not a slut, he had only been with John, and not really even John yet. Heat of the moment of course, Sherlock thought.

John pulled his fingers out quickly and Sherlock yelped at the odd feeling. Then John applied lube to his aching cock and lined up. He pushed in slowly and groaned. Sherlock also groaned, but for a different reason.

Immediately as John began to piston his hips violently into him Sherlock began to cry. This 'lovemaking' didn't feel anything like he expected it to.

John was saying horrible things to him, "bitch whore you like my fat prick like me fucking you up the ass take it god so fucking tight" and an endless stream of things that made Sherlock sob even harder.

John was sweating on him and grunting on every forward thrust, panting heavily through his nose, skin slapping against skin obscenely, it made Sherlock feel sick. Sherlock felt something tear inside him and blood running down his thigh. He could feel John's socks on his calves and sweaty hands clamped down on his arms when John was trying to get a better grip.

Sherlock could tell John was finally nearing completion, his thrusts were becoming erratic and his breathing growing very labored. When John stilled came deep inside him he groaned out Sherlock's name. Sherlock smiled, he was loved.

John collapsed on his back and panted. For a long while they lay together still connected, and Sherlock felt wonderful. Eventually, John pulled out and rolled over. Sherlock sighed and turned to look at John.

John kissed his cheek, "Clean yourself up, get rid of these bloody sheets. I'm going to bed." And slid out of bed.

Sherlock did as he was told. He took a shower and washed all the blood and come off his legs and delicately cleaned his hole that still burned. He replaced the sheets and threw the soiled ones in the bin. Then he climbed the stairs, with some difficulty, to John's room.

He began to climb into bed with John but was stopped.

"What do you think you're doing Sherlock?"

"Sleeping with you?"

"No. Just go back to your bed, I'll see you in the morning."

Sherlock went back downstairs and didn't cry till he was in his own bed.

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author's note! hello! i hope you're enjoying this! i would really really appreciate prompts for more dark!john stories if its not too much trouble! thank you so much for reading! have a good day!


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock was woken up early by a text from Lestrade. A murder, ah, his favorite. He leaped out of bed and dressed quickly then went to wake John.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, "John there's been a murder!" he kneeled on the bed and shook John awake. John stared at him intensely and Sherlock became very uncomfortable. "What's the matter John?"

"What's the matter John?" John mocked, "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea what time it is? You have no consideration for anyone but yourself do you?" John was furious for some reason and pushed Sherlock off the bed hard. Sherlock fell and hit his forehead on the dresser.

He reached up and felt the cut. There was blood. John was off the bed in an instant, "Oh Sherlock, I'm so sorry. Why did you wake me up so early? It's not even light out."

Sherlock leaned into the affection. "There's a case, Lestrade texted me." Sherlock said quietly.

John frowned. "I don't think I like another man texting you love. Give me your mobile."

Sherlock started, "John that's-"he shut his mouth. John did care for him. Maybe it was for the best.

Sherlock nodded and handed it over. John placed it on the dresser and kissed Sherlock's forehead, "Get yourself patched up and I'll get dressed." Sherlock felt so adored.

At the crime scene Sherlock didn't talk to Lestrade much, to keep John happy, he just made his deductions and talked to the grieving husband. "Lestrade, clearly this woman was being abused by her husband, but he was in a completely different part of town when she was killed. From the care that was taken so she didn't suffer and the carefulness of which her body was placed, I'd say this was a mercy killing done by one of her friends who knew about the abuse." Lestrade smiled, "Sherlock, that was brilliant!"

Lestrade patted him on the back and he was feeling very proud, then he saw John approaching.

"Say mate, what happened to your face?" Lestrade asked still resting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Nothing, I tripped," Sherlock shrugged Lestrade off as John got closer.

John was very quite the ride home. Sherlock kept trying to hold his hand, to sit closer, and kept getting shaken off.

As soon as Sherlock stepped in the door, John went off. "What were you thinking cheating on me while I was in the same building?" "What? John, I never- I would never, what are you talking about?" Sherlock was confused and hurt and why was John yelling at him.

"You know exactly what I mean! I saw you with Lestrade, trying to seduce him; I saw the way you looked at him!" "No John, I love you how could you-"Sherlock was cut off with a punch to the jaw.

"Don't lie to me!" John raged. Sherlock had fallen back against the wall and was sinking down it holding his busted lip. John grabbed his hair and yanked him so he was standing up straight. Sherlock howled in pain. "John stop I didn't-"John silenced him by slamming his head back into the wall. Sherlock began to sob.

"Shut up slut, I said I wanted the truth. You did it to me to didn't you; seduced me like you tried to with Lestrade?" a kick to the shins had Sherlock sliding down the wall and on his knees "Well if you're going to act like a whore, you're going to be treated like one." John unzipped his trousers and pulled himself out through his pants.

No this is not what Sherlock wanted. This was not happening. John pushed his cock to Sherlock's mouth and when he didn't open, kicked him in the stomach, which opened his mouth.

Sherlock sobbed and gagged as John thrust uncoordinatedly down his throat. He could feel the thick patch of hair at the base of John's prick tickling his nose and he could feel himself choking. He heard John's grunts and constant chant of "whore I'll teach you to cheat on me bitch who do you think I am slut think I wouldn't _deduce_ it myself freak"

Freak stung the most.

It didn't last long. John ground himself deep down Sherlock's throat and came. He pulled out and panted. "Your whore mouth is good for something at least. Tell me, how many men have you sucked off behind my back, Sherlock? Did they pay you or could you just not get enough cock in you?"

Sherlock slid down on the floor and lay crying. John walked away. At least it was over now. He'd be good now.

Then John was back at his side. He expected John to hold him and tell him it was okay that he didn't mean to hurt him that bad. But no. John had brought a tiny pocket knife.

He grabbed Sherlock's arm and Sherlock began to struggle. John reached down and punched him again and he could feel his eye immediately beginning to swell. John grabbed his arm again and this time he held still.

John turned Sherlock's arm over and carved slowly and deeply his initials 'JW' in to the delicate and pale skin of his forearm. Then he released Sherlock. A bruise was sure to form on his wrist.

"Now you know whose freak you are." John spat on him and left. Sherlock curled up on the floor and waited to be told he could get up.

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_hello! authors note!_

_i feel like this is poorly written as well as the first one so i apologize. but anyway, thank you so much for reading, also, if its not too much trouble on your part, i would really really like to hear your dark!john story promps and then attempt to write them for you! thank you again, have a great day!_!

_lastly, to the guest who wrote a really long a lovely review, thank you so much, yes, scaryjohn is the same as darkjohn, sorry for the confusion and your ideas are excellent! i wish you weren't a guest so we could chat! i don't know why your review isn't showing up, but i got an email about it, anyway, i would love to hear all your ideas for future darkjohn stories! _


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock woke up and groaned. He ached all over and felt nauseous. The lesson from yesterday was fresh in his mind when he heard his phone on the nightstand on John's side of the bed.

Yesterday, he remembered, after he had been lying on the floor for nearly forty minutes, John helped him to his feet and up the stairs to John's room. He applied ointment to Sherlock's lip, eye, the cut on his jaw, and his arm. Then tucked him into bed and curled up behind him.

He heard the phone ring again. He rolled away from John and stared at the wall.

John heard the phone this time to and rolled over to groggily answer "What do you want Lestrade?"

Sherlock heard a muffled voice, something about another victim, he thought.

John yawned, "Yeah we'll be over in a bit. We have some things to do first.", then hung up.

John rolled over to face Sherlock, pulled them together and pressed his erection into Sherlock's back.

"John, maybe we could do that later? I'm not feeling so good."

"And whose fault is that?"

Sherlock felt awful, "It's my fault, I'm sorry."

"It's alright love, I forgive you." John rubbed himself against Sherlock's ass and moaned. He pulled down the detective's pants, licking and nibbling at his neck.

Sherlock whimpered as fingers invaded his dry hole. "Where's the lube John?" he croaked out, squirming away slightly.

"I don't think you deserve any."

Sherlock cried out when three fingers were shoved in. Nothing felt right, there was too much friction and it was much too tight. "Shhh Sherlock, you need this just as much as I do."

John penetrated him slowly, so very slowly Sherlock could almost pretend it was tender.

Then John began to thrust and he felt the familiar ripping feeling and blood that Sherlock could almost pretend was lubricant from the way it helped them slide together more easily.

John grabbed at his hair and pulled his head back to snarl cruelties into his ear.

He felt the familiar sting of tears and the tightening of his throat. It seemed to last for ages.

John moved in him with no mercy and gripped his bruised hip tightly.

Suddenly John pulled out, flipped Sherlock over and started wanking over his face.

He came silently on Sherlock's cheek and in his hair then had Sherlock lick his prick clean.

"We better get going, murder's waiting you know," John said with a smile. Sherlock smiled in return.

At the crime scene Lestrade directed them to the corpse. While John was examining it Lestrade asked to have a private word with Sherlock.

Sherlock shot a worried glance to John who nodded and went back to his examination.

"Sherlock," Lestrade asked, "what's been going on? What happened to your lip? Your eye? Why are you limping?" Sherlock looked down and said nothing. Lestrade put a hand on his arm and Sherlock pulled away immediately. "See Sherlock? That's what I'm talking about. Something's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," Sherlock snarled, "we're fine. I'm fine."

"Who's 'we'?" Lestrade asked softly, already suspecting, with dread that he was talking to a victim.

"John and I, we're a couple now. I love him and… and that's all you need to know. Keep your nose out of our business! John and I are very happy! And, well, I don't think he wouldn't like you interfering!"

"Sherlock calm down. If you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me." And with that, Lestrade handed Sherlock his number and they returned to the crime scene in silence.

Later that night as Lestrade sat at home in his favorite chair, sipping tea and reading the paper, he got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Lestrade? It's...it's Sherlock…"

"Sherlock? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm a few streets away from your house on a… it looks like I'm on 'Vine Street'… I tried to walk to you, but, I don't think I can make it…"

"Stay there! I'm coming to get you!"

"…please hurry…"

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_author's note! thank you for reading it anyway! i'm sort of trying to wrap this up, so suggestions for future dark!john stories would be really appreciated! thank you again for reading and have a fabulous day!_


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade ran outside and down a street to where Sherlock had said he was.

He saw him then, lying under a tree, bloody, bruised, one eye swollen shut and over all abused.

"Oh Sherlock," Lestrade said softly.

He helped the beaten man to his house. They went slow and Lestrade muttered what he hoped to be comforting things about how he would care for Sherlock when they got there.

Finally, they made it inside and Lestrade sat Sherlock down on the sofa.

He could also, unfortunately, see the whole of the damage done.

There were bruises all over Sherlock's wrists and arms and a scar that proclaimed 'JW' on one forearm and a fresh wound that read 'FREAK' and bled profusely on the other.

Sherlock's t-shirt was covered in blood from where his broken nose and busted lip had been dripping.

The seat of his pajama pants was also stained with blood and he walked with a distinct limp.

Lestrade gave him a blanket and a cup of tea. "Sherlock I need to call you an ambulance, I'll just be in the next room for a minute alright?"

He nodded slowly.

Lestrade left the room and dialed quickly giving the woman his address and stating that he was most certain he had found a victim of abuse that had been badly injured. After the ambulance was on its way he sat down in his favorite chair across from the sofa.

"Sherlock, I need to ask you… did John do this to you?"

Sherlock dropped his tea and burst into tears. Lestrade made to get up and comfort him but he seemed to cry harder and clutch at the blanket the closer he got.

"He loves me I know he does! But, he told me to get out and I didn't know where to go and I'm so sorry Greg! Don't be angry, this isn't John's fault!" Sherlock sobbed

Lestrade didn't know what to do. He swallowed and said "Sherlock, I need to make another phone call. I'll be right back."

He dug around in his drawer under the phone and found the number with the note 'in case of emergency' and dialed the number.

"Hello, Mycroft? It's me, Gregory Lestrade."

"Yes hello Greg, what a pleasant surprise. I do hope this is an emergency. This is an 'emergency line'."

"Yes, well, it's about Sherlock. I think- no, I'm sure, Dr. John Watson has manipulated and hurt him very badly and-"

"I see. Thank you for calling me Greg. I'll take care of it. Goodbye." And with that, he hung up.

Lestrade took a steadying breath and forced himself to walk back in and face Sherlock.

Sherlock was curled into a ball holding his knees and it was so un-Sherlock that it made Lestrade's stomach turn.

When Sherlock spotted him he started rambling "This has nothing to do with you Lestrade, John will be upset I came here, he's probably looking for me, I need to get home, it was my fault in the first place, John didn't mean it, he doesn't know his own strength, I need to get home, this was a terrible idea…"

"Sherlock," Lestrade started, not really sure what he was about to say, "You need to stay here and let the medics look over you."

When the ambulance arrived they took a very reluctant Sherlock to the hospital to be cared for.

The next morning when Lestrade walked into the kitchen he found Mycroft sitting at his table.

"Christ Mycroft! You'll give a guy a heart attack."

"I should hope not. Thank you, for looking after my brother. And for calling me."

"Oh, yeah, I mean it was no trouble, I wanted to help. How is he?"

"Broken nose, broken wrist and three broken ribs. Mentally, even worse. Keeps asking for John. He's scared."

Lestrade felt nauseous. "I can't believe John would do something like that. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner."

After a pause, "So, what happens to John?"

Mycroft smiled faintly at that, "He's being taken care of."

* * *

_authors note! thank you so much for reading! i hope that was a good enough ending and it wasn't to open ended for you! i would really really really love to hear any ideas you have for my next fic, which im pretty sure is going to be another dark!john one but teacher/student this time. thank you again for reading! have a great day!_


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